HIGGINS 

A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 


NORMAN     DUN  CAN 


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BY 

NORMAN   DUNCAN 


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i  HARPER  G-  BROTHERS 
I  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 
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Books  by 
NORMAN   DUNCAN 

Dr.  Grenfell's  Parish:  A  Tract  in  Descrip- 
tion of  the  Deep  Sea  Mission  Work     . 

Going  Down  from  Jerusalem:    The  Narra- 
tive of  a  Journey .  Net  $1.50 

Every  Man  for  Himself:   A  Book  of  Short 

Stories 1.50 

The  Cruise  of  the  '  Shining  Light  ':  A  Novel 

of  the  Sea 1.50 

Doctor  Luke  of  the  'Labrador':  A  Novel 

The  Suitable  Child:  A  Christmas  Story     . 

The  Mother:  A  Short  Novel 

The    Adventures    of    Billy    Topsail:    A 
Story  for  Boys    . 

The  Way  of  the  Sea:  A  Book  of  Short  Stories 

The  Soul  of  the  Street:  A  Book  of  Short 
Stories 

HiGGiNS — A  Man's  Christian 50 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS,    Publishers,    N.   Y. 


Copyright,  1909,  by  Hakper  &  Brothers. 

All  rights  reserved. 

Published  November,  1909. 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  Hell  Bent i 

II.  The  Pilot  of  Souls    ...  4 

III.  In  the  Snake-Room     ...  8 

IV.  The      Cloth      In      Queer 

Places 11 

V.  Jack  In  Camp 20 

VI.  *'To  THE  Tall  Timber!".     .  25 

VII.  Robbing  the  Blind     ...  32 

VIII.  Touching  Pitch 43 

IX.  In  Spite  of  Laughter     .     .  54 

X.  The  Voice  of  the  Lord      .  ^j 

XI.  Fist-Play 65 

XII.  Making  the  Grade    ...  72 


IVlVOob  ^  i 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

XIII.  Straight  from  the  Shoul- 

der   78 

XIV.  The   Shoe  on  the  Other 

Foot 85 

XV.  Cause  and  Effect     ...      97 

XVI.  The  Wages  of  Sacrifice    .     109 


TO  THE   READER 

WHAT  this  book  contains  was 
learned  by  the  writer  in  the 
course  of  two  visits  with  Mr.  Higgins 
in  the  Minnesota  woods — one  in  the 
lumber-camps  and  lumber-towns  at 
midwinter,  and  again  at  the  time 
of  the  drive.  Upon  both  occasions 
Mr.  Higgins  was  accompanied  by  his 
devoted  and  admirable  friend,  the 
Rev.  Thomas  D.  Whittles,  to  whose 
suggestions  and  leading  he  responded 
with  many  a  tale  of  his  experiences, 
some  of  which  are  here  related.  Mr. 
Whittles  was  at  the  same  time  good 

V 


TO   THE    READER 

enough  to  permit  the  writer  to  draw 
whatever  information  might  seem 
necessary  from  a  more  extended 
description  of  Mr.  Higgins's  work, 
called  The  Lumber- jack' s  Sky  Pilot, 
which  he  had  written. 


HIGGINS 


A  MAN'S   CHRISTIAN 


HIGGINS 
A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 


I 


HELL    BENT 

TWENTY  thousand  of  the  thirty 
thousand  lumber-jacks  and  river- 
pigs  of  the  Minnesota  woods  are 
hilariously  in  pursuit  of  their  own 
ruin  for  lack  of  something  better  to 
do  in  town.  They  are  not  nice,  en- 
Hghtened  men,  of  course;  the  debauch 
is  the  traditional  diversion — the  theme 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

of  all  the  brave  tales  to  which  the 
youngsters  of  the  bunk-houses  listen 
in  the  lantern-light  and  dwell  upon 
after  dark.  The  lumber-jacks  pro- 
ceed thus  —  being  fellows  of  big 
strength  in  every  physical  way — to 
the  uttermost  of  filth  and  savagery 
and  fellowship  with  every  abomina- 
tion. It  is  done  with  shouting  and 
laughter  and  that  large  good-humor 
which  is  bedfellow  with  the  bloodiest 
brawling,  and  it  has  for  a  bit,  no 
doubt,  its  amiable  aspect;  but  the 
merry  shouters  are  presently  become 
like  Jimmie  the  Beast,  that  low,  no- 
torious brute,  who,  emerging  drunk 
and  hungry  from  a  Deer  River  saloon, 
robbed  a  bulldog  of  his  bone  and 
gnawed  it  himself — or  like  Damned 
Soul  Jenkins,  who  goes  moaning  into 
the  forest,   after  the  spree  in  town. 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

conceiving  himself  condemned  to  roast 
forever  in  hell,  without  hope,  nor  even 
the  ease  v^hich  his  mother's  prayers 
might  win  from  a  compassionate 
God. 

They  can't  help  themselves,  it 
seems.  Not  all  of  them,  of  course; 
but  most. 


II 

THE    PILOT   OF    SOULS 

A  BIG,  clean,  rosy-cheeked  man  in 
a  Mackinaw  coat  and  rubber 
boots — hardly  distinguishable  from 
the  lumber-jack  crew  except  for  his 
quick  step  and  high  glance  and  fine 
resolute  way — went  swiftly  through 
a  Deer  River  saloon  toward  the  snake- 
room  in  search  of  a  lad  from  Toronto 
who  had  in  the  camps  besought  to  be 
preserved  from  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
town. 

"There  goes  the  Pilot,"  said  a  lum- 
ber-jack at  the  bar.     "Hello,  Pilot!" 

4 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

"To,  Tom!" 

"Ain*t  ye  goin'  t'  preach  no  more 
at  Camp  Six?" 

''Sure,  Tom!" 

"Well— when  the  hell?" 

"Week  from  Thursday,  Tom,"  the 
vanishing  man  called  back;  "tell  the 
boys  I'm  coming." 

"Know  the  Pilot?"  the  lumber- 
jack asked. 

I  nodded. 

"  Higgins's  job,"  said  he,  ear- 
nestly, "is  keepin'  us  boys  out  o' 
hell;  an'  he's  the  only  man  on  the 
job." 

Of  this  I  had  been  Informed. 

"I  want  t'  tell  ye,  friend,"  the 
lumber-jack  added,  with  honest  rev- 
erence, "that  he's  a  damned  good 
Christian,  if  ever  there  was  one. 
Ain't  that  right,  Billy  ?" 

5 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"Higgins,"  the  bartender  agreed, 
"is  a  square  man." 

The  lumber-jack  reverted  to  the 
previous  interest.  All  at  once  he 
forgot  about  the  Pilot. 

Hey,    Billy!"    he   cried,    severely, 
where  'd  ye  put  that  bottle .?" 

Higgins  was  then  in  the  snake- 
room  of  the  place — a  foul  compart- 
ment into  which  the  stupefied  and 
delirious  are  thrown  when  they  are 
penniless — searching  the  pockets  of 
the  drunken  boy  from  Toronto  for 
some  leavings  of  his  wages.  '^Not 
a  cent!"  said  he,  bitterly.  **They 
haven't  left  him  a  cent!  They've  got 
every  penny  of  three  months'  wages! 
Don't  blame  the  boy,"  he  pursued,  in 
pain  and  infinite  sympathy,  easing  the 
lad's  head  on  the  floor;  "it  isn't  all 
his  fault.     He  came  out  of  the  camps 

6 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

without  telling  me — and  some  cursed 
tin-horn  gambler  met  him,  I  suppose 
— and  he's  only  a  boy — and  they 
didn't  give  him  a  show — and,  oh,  the 
pity  of  it!  he's  been  here  only  two 
days!" 

The  boy  was  in  a  stupor  of  in- 
toxication, but  presently  revived  a 
little,  and  turned  very  sick. 

*'That  you.  Pilot?"  he  said. 

**Yes,  Jimmie." 

"A'  right." 

"Feel  a  bit  better  now?" 

"Uh-huh." 

The  boy  sighed  and  collapsed  un- 
conscious: Higgins  remained  in  the 
weltering  filth  of  the  room  to  ease  and 
care  for  him.  **  Don't  wait  for  me, 
old  man,"  said  he,  looking  up  from 
the  task.     **ril  be  busy  for  a  while." 

7 


Ill 

IN  THE    SNAKE-ROOM 

FRANK  necessity  invented  the 
snake -room  of  the  lumber -town 
saloon.  There  are  times  of  gigantic 
debauchery — the  seasons  of  paying 
off.  A  logger  then  once  counted  one 
hundred  and  fifty  men  drunk  in  a 
single  hotel  of  a  town  of  twelve  hun- 
dred inhabitants  where  fourteen  other 
bar-rooms  heartily  flourished.  They 
overflowed  the  snake-rooms — they  lay 
snoring  on  the  bar-room  floor — they 
littered  the  oflftce — they  were  doubled 
up  on  the  stair-landings  and  stretched 

8 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

out  in  the  corridors.  Drunken  men 
stumbled  over  drunken  men  and  fell 
helpless  beside  them;  and  still,  in 
the  bar-room  (said  he) — beyond  the 
men  who  slept  or  writhed  on  the 
floor  and  had  been  kicked  out  of  the 
way — the  lumber-jacks  were  clamor- 
ing three  deep  for  whiskey  at  the 
bar.  Hence  the  snake-room:  one 
may  not  eject  drunken  men  into  bit- 
ter weather  and  leave  them  to  freeze. 
Bartenders  and  their  helpers  carry 
them  off  to  the  snake -room  when 
they  drop;  others  stagger  in  of  their 
own  notion  and  fall  upon  their  reek- 
ing fellows.  There  is  no  arrange- 
ment of  the  bodies — but  a  squirming 
heap  of  them,  from  which  legs  and 
arms  protrude,  wherein  open-mouthed 
bearded  faces  appear  in  a  tangle  of 
contorted     limbs.     Men    moan    and 

9 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

laugh  and  sob  and  snore;  and  some 
cough  with  early  pneumonia,  some 
curse,  some  sing,  some  horribly  grunt; 
and  some,  delirious,  pick  at  spiders 
in  the  air,  and  talk  to  monkeys,  and 
scream  out  to  be  saved  from  dogs 
and  snakes.  Men  reel  in  yelHng 
groups  from  the  bar  to  watch  the 
spectacle  of  which  they  will  them- 
selves presently  be  a  part. 


IV 

THE    CLOTH    IN   QUEER   PLACES 

THIS  Is  the  simple  and  veracious 
narrative  of  the  singular  min- 
isterial activities  of  the  Rev.  Francis 
Edmund  Higgins,  a  Presbyterian, 
who  regularly  ministers,  without  a 
church,  acting  under  the  Board  of 
Home  Missions,  to  the  lumber-jacks 
of  the  remoter  Minnesota  woods. 
Singular  ministerial  activities  these 
are,  truly,  appealing  alike  to  those 
who  believe  in  God  and  to  such  as 
may  deny  Him.  They  are  particu- 
larly robust.     When  we  walked  from 

II 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

Camp  Two  to  Camp  Four  of  a  mid- 
winter day,  with  the  snow  crackling 
underfoot  and  the  last  sunset  light 
glowing  like  heavenly  fire  beyond  the 
great  green  pines — 

Boys,"  said  Higgins,  gravely, 
there's  just  one  thing  that  I  regret; 
and  if  I  had  to  prepare  for  the  min- 
istry over  again,  I  wouldn't  make  the 
same  mistake:  I  ought  to  have  taken 
boxing  lessons." 

No  other  minister  of  the  gospel, 
possibly,  could  with  perfect  pro- 
priety, in  the  sight  of  the  unrighteous, 
who  are  the  most  severe  critics  of 
propriety  in  this  respect,  lean  easily 
over  a  bar  (his  right  foot  having  of 
long  habit  found  the  rail),  and  in 
terms  of  soundest  common  sense 
reasonably  urge  upon  the  man  be- 
hind the  wet  mahogany  the  shame  of 

12 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

his  situation  and  the  virtue  of  aban- 
doning it;  nor  could  any  other  whom 
I  know  truculently  crowd  into  the 
howling,  brawling,  drunken  throng  of 
lumber-jacks,  all  gone  mad  of  adul- 
terated liquor,  and  with  any  confident 
show  of  authority  command  the  de- 
parture of  some  weakling  who  had 
followed  the  debauch  of  his  mates 
far  beyond    his  little  strength. 

"Come  out  o'  this!"  says  Higgins. 

"Ah,  go  chase  yerself.  Pilot!"  Is 
the  indulgent  response,  most  amiably 
delivered,  with  a  loose,  kind  smile. 

"Come  on!"  says  Higgins,  in  wrath. 

"Ah,  Pilot,"  the  youngster  pleads, 
"Fm  on'y  bavin'  a  little  fun.  You 
go  chase  yerself,  Pilot,"  says  he,  affec- 
tionately, with  no  offence  whateso- 
ever,  "an'  le'  me  alone." 

The   Rev.    Francis   Edmund   Hig- 

13 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

gins,  in  the  midst  of  an  unholy  up- 
roar— the  visible  manifestation,  this 
environment  and  behavior,  it  seems 
to  me,  of  the  noise  and  smell  and  very 
abandonment  of  hell  —  is  privileged 
to  seize  the  youngster  by  the  throat 
and  in  no  unnecessarily  gentle  way 
to  jerk  him  into  the  clean,  frosty  air 
of  the  winter  night.  In  these  days 
of  his  ministry,  nobody — the  situation 
being  an  ordinary  one — would  inter- 
fere. If,  however,  it  seemed  unwise  to 
proceed  in  this  way,  Higgins  would 
at  least  strip  the  boy  of  his  savings. 

"Hand  over!"  says  he. 

The  boy  hands  over  every  cent  he 
possesses.  If  Higgins  suspects,  he 
will  turn  out  the  pockets.  And  later 
— late  in  the  night — ^with  the  wintry 
dawn  breaking,  it  may  be — the  sleep- 
less Pilot  carries  the  boy  off  on  his 

14 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

back  to  such  saving  care  as  he  may 
be  able  to  exercise.  To  a  gentle  care 
— a  soft,  tender  solicitude,  all  separate 
from  the  wild  doings  of  the  bar-room, 
and  all  under  cover,  even  as  between 
the  boy  and  the  Pilot.  I  have  been 
secretly  told  that  the  good  Pilot  is  at 
such  times  like  a  brooding  mother 
to  the  lusty,  wa}^ward  youngsters  of 
the  camps,  who,  in  their  prodigality, 
do  but  manfully  emulate  the  most 
manly  behavior  of  which  they  are 
aware. 

To  confuse  Higgins  with  cranks 
and  freaks  would  be  most  injurious- 
ly to  wrong  him.  He  is  not  an 
eccentric;  his  hair  is  cropped,  his 
finger  nails  are  clean,  there  is  a  com- 
manding achievement  behind  him, 
he  has  manners,  a  mind  variously  in- 

15 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

terested,  as  the  polite  world  demands. 
Nor  is  he  a  fanatic;  he  would  spit  cant 
from  his  mouth  in  disgust  if  ever  it 
chanced  within.  He  is  a  reasonable 
and  highly  efficient  worker — a  man 
dealing  with  active  problems  in  an 
intelligent  and  thoroughly  practical 
way;  and  he  is  as  self-respecting  and 
respected  in  his  peculiar  field  as  any 
pulpit  parson  of  the  cities — and  as  sane 
as  an  engineer.  He  is  a  big,  jovial, 
rotund,  rosy-cheeked  Irish-Canadian 
(pugnacious  upon  occasion),  with  a 
boy's  smile  and  eyes  and  laugh,  with 
a  hearty  voice  and  way,  with  a  head 
held  high,  with  a  man's  clean,  con- 
fident soul  gazing  frankly  from  un- 
wavering eyes:  five  foot  nine  and  two 
hundred  pounds  to  him  (which  allows 
for  a  little  rippling  fat).  He  is  big 
of  body  and  heart  and  faith  and  out- 

i6 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

look  and  charity  and  inspiration  and 
belief  in  the  work  of  his  hands;  and 
his  life  is  lived  joyously — notwith- 
standing the  dirty  work  of  it — though 
deprived  of  the  common  delights  of 
life.  He  has  no  church:  he  straps  a 
pack  on  his  back  and  tramps  the 
logging-roads  from  camp  to  camp, 
whatever  the  weather — twelve  miles 
in  a  blizzard  at  forty  below — and 
preaches  every  day — and  twice  and 
three  times  a  day — in  the  bunk-houses; 
and  he  buries  the  boys — and  marries 
them  to  the  kind  of  women  they 
know — and  scolds  and  beseeches  and 
thrashes  them,  and  banks  for  them. 

God  knows  what  they  would  do 
without  Higgins!  He  is  as  necessary 
to  them  now — as  much  sought  in 
trouble  and  as  heartily  regarded — as 
a   Presbyterian    minister   of  the   old 

17 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

school;  he  is  as  close  and  helpful  and 
dogmatic  in  intimate  affairs. 

"Pilot,"  said  OP  Man  Johnson, 
''take  this  here  stuff  away  from  me!" 

The  Sky  Pilot  rose  astounded.  01' 
Man  Johnson,  in  the  beginnings  of  his 
spree  in  town — half  a  dozen  potations 
— ^was  frantically  emptying  his  pockets 
of  gold  (some  hundreds  of  dollars)  on 
the  preacher's  bed  in  the  room  above 
the  saloon;  and  he  blubbered  like  a 
baby  while  he  threw  the  coins  from 
him. 

"  Keep  it  away  from  me !"  Ol'  Man 
Johnson  wept,  drawing  back  from  the 
money  with  a  gesture  of  terror.  "For 
Christ's  sake,  Pilot! — keep  it  away 
from  me!" 

The  Pilot  understood. 

"If  you  don't,"  cried  Ol'  Man 
Johnson,  "it'll  kill  me!" 

i8 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

Higglns  sent  a  draft  for  the  money 
to  or  Man  Johnson  when  Ol'  Man 
Johnson  got  safely  home  to  his  wife 
in  Wisconsin.  Another  spree  in  town 
would  surely  have  killed  Ol'  Man 
Johnson- 


JACK   IN    CAMP 

THE  lumber-jack  in  camp  can,  in 
his  walk  and  conversation,  easily 
be  distinguished  from  the  angels; 
but  at  least  he  is  industrious  and  no 
wild  brawler.  He  is  up  and  heartily 
breakfasted  and  off  to  the  woods, 
with  a  saw  or  an  axe,  at  break  of  day; 
and  when  he  returns  in  the  frosty 
dusk  he  is  worn  out  with  a  man's 
labor,  and  presently  ready  to  turn  in 
for  sound  sleep.  They  are  all  in  the 
pink  of  condition  then — big  and 
healthy  and   clear-eyed,    and  wholly 

20 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

able  for  the  day's  work.  A  stout, 
hearty,  kindly,  generous  crew,  of 
almost  every  race  under  the  sun — in 
behavior  like  a  pack  of  boys.  It  is 
the  Saturday  in  town — and  the  oc- 
casional spree — and  the  final  de- 
bauch (which  is  all  the  town  will 
give  them  for  their  money)  that 
litters  the  bar-room  floor  with  the 
wrecks  of  these  masterful  bodies. 

Walking  in  from  Deer  River  of  a 
still,  cold  afternoon — with  the  sun 
low  and  the  frost  crackling  under 
foot  and  all  round  about — ^we  en- 
countered a  strapping  young  fellow 
bound  out  to  town  afoot. 

Look  here,   boy!"   said   Higgins;   ' 
where  you  going?" 
Deer  River,  sir." 


**What  for.?" 

21 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

There  was  some  reply  to  this.  It 
was  a  childish  evasion;  the  boy  had 
no  honest  business  out  of  camp,  with 
the  weather  good  and  the  work  press- 
ing, and  he  knew  that  Higgins  under- 
stood. Meanwhile,  he  kicked  at  the 
snow,  with  a  sheepish  grin,  and  would 
not  look  the  Pilot  in  the  eye. 

** You're  from  Three,  aren't  you?" 
Yes,  sir." 

I  thought  I  saw  you  there  in  the 
fall,"  said  the  Pilot.  **Well,  boy," 
he  continued,  putting  a  strong  hand 
on  the  other's  shoulder,  "look  me  in 
the  eye." 

The  boy  looked  up. 

"God  help  you!"  said  the  Pilot, 
from  his  heart;  "nobody  else  '11  give 
you  a  show  in  Deer  River." 

We  walked  on,  Higgins  in  advance, 
downcast.     I  turned,  presently,  and 

22 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

discovered  that  the  young  lumber- 
jack  was  running. 

**  Can't  get  there  fast  enough/*  said 
Higgins.  "I  saw  that  his  tongue  was 
hanging  out." 

*'He  seeks  his  pleasure,"  I  ob- 
served. 

**True,"  Higgins  repKed;  "and 
the  only  pleasure  the  men  of  Deer 
River  will  let  him  have  is  what  he'll 
buy  and  pay  for  over  a  bar,  until  his 
last  red  cent  is  gone.  It  isn't  right, 
I  tell  you,"  he  exploded;  "the  boy 
hasn't  a  show,  and  it  isn't  right!" 

It  was  twelve  miles  from  Camp 
Three  to  Deer  River.  We  met  other 
men  on  the  road  to  town — men  with 
wages  in  their  pockets,  trudging 
blithely  toward  the  lights  and  liquor 
and  drunken  hilarity  of  the  place. 
It  was  Saturday;  and  on  Monday, 
3  23 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

ejected  from  the  saloons,  they  would 
inevitably  stagger  back  to  the  camps. 
I  have  heard  of  one  kindly  logger 
who  dispatches  a  team  to  the  nearest 
town  every  Monday  morning  to  gather 
up  his  stupefied  lumber- jacks  from 
the  bar-room  floors  and  snake-rooms 
and  haul  them  into  the  woods. 


VI 

TO   THE   TALL   TIMBER! 


(( ^-,,     ps 


IT  is  "back  to  the  tall  timber"  for 
the  penniless  lumber-jack.  Perhaps 
the  familiar  slang  is  derived  from  the 
necessity.  I  recall  an  intelligent  Cor- 
nishman — a  cook  with  a  kitchen  kept 
sweet  and  clean — who  with  a  laugh 
contemplated  the  catastrophe  of  the 
snake-room,  and  the  nervous  collapse, 
and  the  bedraggled  return  to  the 
woods. 

"Of  course,"  said  he,  "that's 
where  I'll  land  in  the  spring!" 

It  amazed  me. 

25 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

*' Can't  help  it,"  said  he.  "That's 
where  my  stake  '11  go.  Jake  Boore 
'11  get  the  most  of  it;  and  among  the 
lot  of  them  they'll  get  every  cent. 
I'll  blow  four  hundred  dollars  in  in 
two  weeks — if  I'm  lucky  enough  to 
make  it  go  that  far." 

"  When  you  know  that  they  rob  you  ?" 

** Certainly  they  will  rob  me;  every- 
body knows  that!  But  every  year  for 
nine  years,  now,  I've  tried  to  get  out 
of  the  woods  with  my  stake,  and 
haven't  done  it.  I  intend  to  this  year; 
but  I  know  I  won't.  I'll  strike  for 
Deer  River  when  I  get  my  money; 
and  I'll  have  a  drink  at  Jake  Boore's 
saloon,  and  when  I  get  that  drink  down 
I'll  be  on  my  way.  It  isn't  because 
I  want  to;  it's  because  I  have  to." 

"  But  why .?" 

"They  won't  let  you  do  anything 

26 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

else/'  said  the  cook.  'Tve  tried  it 
for  nine  years.  Every  winter  Fve 
said  to  myself  that  Fll  get  out  of  the 
woods  in  the  spring,  and  every  spring 
I've  been  kicked  out  of  a  saloon  dead 
broke.  It's  always  been  back  to  the 
tall  timber  for  me." 

"What  you  need,  Jones,"  said  Hig- 
gins,  who  stood  by,  "is  the  grace  of 
God  in  your  heart." 

Jones  laughed. 

"You  hear  me,  Jones.?"  the  Pilot 
repeated.  "What  you  need  is  the 
grace  of  God  in  your  heart." 

"The  Pilot's  mad,"  the  cook  laugh- 
ed, but  not  unkindly.  "The  Pilot 
and  I  don't  agree  about  religion,"  he 
explained;  "and  now  he's  mad  be- 
cause I  won't  go  to  church." 

This  banter  did  not  disturb  the 
Pilot  in  the  least. 

27 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 


<<T». 


I'm  not  mad,  Jones,"  said  he. 
*' All  I'm  saying,"  he  repeated,  earnest- 
ly, fetching  the  cook's  flour-board  a 
thwack  with  his  fist,  "is  that  what  you 
need  is  the  grace  of  God  in  your  heart." 

Again  Jones  laughed. 

"That's  all  right,  Jones!"  cried  the 
indignant  preacher.  "But  I  tell  you 
that  what  you  need  is  the  grace  of 
God  in  your  heart.  And  you  know 
it!  And  when  I  get  you  in  the  snake- 
room  of  Jake  Boore's  saloon  in  Deer 
River  next  spring,"  he  continued,  in 
righteous  anger,  "/'//  ruh  it  into  you! 
Understand  me,  Jones  ?  When  I 
haul  you  out  of  the  snake-room,  and 
wash  you,  and  get  you  sobered  up, 
I'll  rub  it  into  you  that  what  you  need 
is  the  grace  of  God  in  your  heart  to 
give  you  the  first  splinter  of  a  man's 
backbone." 

28 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 


I'll  be  humble — then,"  said  Jones. 
You'll  have  to  be  a  good  deal 
more  than  humble,  friend,"  Higgins 
retorted,  "before  there'll  be  a  man 
in  the  skin  that  you  wear." 
**I  don't  doubt  it.  Pilot." 
"Huh!"  the  preacher  sniffed,  in  fine 
scorn. 

The  story  fortunately  has  an  out- 
come. I  doubt  that  the  cook  took 
the  Pilot's  prescription;  but,  at  any 
rate,  he  had  wisdom  sufficient  to  warn 
the  Pilot  when  his  time  was  out,  and 
his  money  was  in  his  pocket,  and  he 
was  bound  out  of  the  woods  in  an- 
other attempt  to  get  through  Deer 
River.  It  was  midwinter  when  the 
the  Pilot  prescribed  the  grace  of 
God;  it  was  late  in  the  spring  when 
the  cook  secretly  warned  him  to  stand 

29 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

by  the  forlorn  essay;  and  it  was  later 
still — the  drive  was  on — when,  one 
night,  as  we  watched  the  sluicing,  I 
inquired. 

"  Jones  ?"  the  Pilot  replied,  puzzled. 
"What  Jones?" 

"The  cook  who  couldn't  get 
through." 

"Oh,"  said  the  Pilot,  "you  mean 
Jonesy.  Well,"  he  added,  with  sat- 
isfaction, "Jonesy  got   through    this 


time." 


I  asked  for  the  tale  of  it. 

"You'd  hardly  believe  it,"  said  the 
Pilot,  "but  we  cashed  that  big  check 
right  in  Jake  Boore's  saloon.  I 
wouldn't  have  it  any  other  way,  and 
neither  would  Jonesy.  In  we  went, 
boys,  brave  as  lions;  and  when  Jake 
Boore  passed  over  the  money  Jonesy 
put  it  in  his  pocket.     Drink  ^.     Not 

30 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

he !  Not  a  drop  would  he  take.  They 
tried  all  the  tricks  they  knew,  but 
Jonesy  wouldn't  fall  to  them.  They 
even  put  liquor  under  his  nose;  and 
Jonesy  let  it  stay  there,  and  just 
laughed.  I  tell  you  boys,  it  was  fine! 
It  was  great!  Jonesy  and  I  stuck  it 
out  night  and  day  together  for  two 
days;  and  then  I  put  Jonesy  aboard 
train,  and  Jonesy  swore  he'd  never 
set  foot  in  Deer  River  again.  He  was 
going  South,  somewhere,  to  see — 
somebody." 

It  was  doubtless  the  grace  of  God, 
after  all,  that  got  the  cook  through: 
if  not  the  grace  of  God  in  the  cook's 
heart,  then  in  the  Pilot's. 


VII 

ROBBING  THE    BLIND 

IT  it  a  perfectly  simple  situation. 
There  are  thirty  thousand  men — 
more  or  less  of  them,  according  to  the 
season — making  the  wages  of  men  in 
the  woods.  Most  of  them  accumulate 
a  hot  desire  to  wring  some  enjoyment 
from  life  in  return  for  the  labor  they 
do.  They  have  no  care  about  money 
when  they  have  it.  They  fling  it  in 
gold  over  the  bars  (and  any  sober 
man  may  rob  their  very  pockets); 
they  waste  in  a  night  what  they  earn 
in  a  winter — and  then  crawl  back  to 

32 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

the  woods.  Naturally  the  lumber- 
towns  are  crowded  with  parasites 
upon  their  lusts  and  prodigality — 
with  gamblers  and  saloon-keepers 
and  purveyors  of  low  passion.  Some 
— larger  capitalists,  more  acute  and 
more  acquisitive,  of  a  greed  less  nice 
— profess  the  three  occupations  at 
once.  They  are  the  men  of  real 
power  in  the  remoter  communities, 
makers  of  mayors  and  chiefs  of  police 
and  magistrates — or  were  until  Hig- 
gins  came  along  to  dispute  them. 
And  their  operations  have  been  simple 
and  enormously  profitable — so  easy,  so 
free  from  any  fear  of  the  law,  that  I 
should  think  they  would  (in  their  own 
phrase)  be  ashamed  to  take  the  money. 
It  seems  to  be  no  trouble  at  all  to  ab- 
stract a  drunken  lumber-jack's  wages. 
*  *  *  * 

33 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

It  takes  a  big  man  to  oppose  these 
forces — a  big  heart  and  a  big  body, 
and  a  store  of  hope  and  courage  not 
easily  depleted.  It  takes,  too,  a  good 
minister;  it  takes  a  loving  heart  and 
a  fist  quick  to  find  the  point  of  the 
jaw  to  preach  the  gospel  after  the 
manner  of  Higgins.  And  Higgins 
conceives  it  to  be  one  of  his  sacred 
ministerial  duties  to  protect  his  pa- 
rishioners in  town.  Behind  the  bunk- 
houses,  in  the  twilight,  they  say  to 
him:  "When  you  goin'  t'  be  in  Deer 
River,  Pilot.?  Friday.?  All  right. 
Fm  goin'  home.  See  me  through, 
won't  you .?"  Having  committed 
themselves  in  this  way,  nothing  can 
save  them  from  Higgins — neither  their 
own  drunken  will  (if  they  escape  him 
for  an  interval)  nor  the  antagonism 
of  the    keepers    of  places.     This    is 

34 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

perilous  and  unscholarly  work;  sys- 
tematic theology  has  nothing  to  do 
with  escorting  through  a  Minnesota 
lumber-town  a  weak-kneed  boy  who 
wants  to  take  his  money  home  to  his 
mother   in   Michigan. 

Once  the  Pilot  discovered  such  a 
boy  in  the  bar-room  of  a  Bemidji 
saloon. 

"Where's  your  money.?"  he  de- 
manded. 

"'N  my  pocket." 

"Hand  it  over,"  said  the  Pilot. 

"Ain't  going  to." 

"Yes,  you  are;  and  you're  going 
to  do  it  quick.     Come  out  of  this!" 

Cowed  by  these  large  words,  the 
boy  yielded  to  the  grip  of  Higgins's 
big  hand,  and  was  led  away  a  little. 
Then  the  bartender  leaned  over  the 
bar.     A  gambler  or  two  lounged  tow- 

35 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

ard  the  group.  There  was  a  preg- 
nant pause. 

**Look  here,  Higglns,"  said  the  bar- 
tender, *'what  business  is  this  of 
yours,    anyhow  ?" 

"What  business — of  mine  ?^*  asked 
the  astounded  Pilot. 

"Yes;    what  you  buttin'  in  for.?" 

"This,"  said  Higgins,  "/V  my 
jobr 

The  Pilot  was  leaning  wrathfully 
over  the  bar,  his  face  thrust  bellig- 
erently forward,  alert  for  whatever 
might  happen.  The  bartender  struck 
at  him.  Higgins  had  withdrawn. 
The  bartender  came  over  the  bar  at 
a  bound.  The  preacher  caught  him 
on  the  jaw  in  mid-air  with  a  stiff 
blow,  and  he  fell  headlong  and  un- 
conscious. They  made  friends  next 
day — the  boy  being  then  safely  out 

36 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

of  town.  It  is  not  hard  for  Higgins 
to  make  friends  with  bartenders. 
They  seem  to  like  it;  Higgins  really 
does. 

It  was  in  some  saloon  of  the  woods 
that  the  watchful  Higgins  observed 
an  Irish  lumber-jack  empty  his 
pockets  on  the  bar  and,  in  a  great 
outburst  of  joy,  order  drinks  for  the 
crowd.  The  men  lined  up;  and  the 
Pilot,  too,  leaned  over  the  bar,  close 
to  the  lumber- jack.  The  bartender 
presently  whisked  a  few  coins  from 
the  little  heap  of  gold  and  silver^ 
Higgins  edged  nearer.  In  a  moment, 
as  he  knew — just  as  soon  as  the 
lumber-jack  would  for  an  instant  turn 
his  back — the  rest  of  the  money 
would  be  deftly  swept  away. 

The  thing  was  about  to  happen, 

37 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

when  Higgins's  big  hand  shot  out 
and  covered  the  heap. 

"Pat,"  said  he,  quietly,  "Fll  not 
take  a  drink.  This,"  he  added,  as 
he  put  the  money  in  his  pocket,  "is 
my  treat." 

The  Pilot  stood  them  all  ofF — the 
hangers  on,  the  runners,  the  gam- 
blers, the  bartender  (with  a  gun),  and 
the  Irish  lumber-jack  himself.  To 
the  bartender  he  remarked  (while  he 
gazed  contemptuously  into  the  muz- 
zle of  the  gun)  that  should  ever  the 
fellow  grow  into  the  heavy-weight 
class  he  would  be  glad  to  "take  him 
on."  As  it  was,  he  was  really  not 
worth  considering  in  any  serious  way, 
and  had  better  go  get  a  reputation. 
It  was  a  pity — for  the  Pilot  (said  he) 
was  fit  and  able — but  the  thrashing 
must  be  postponed  for  the  time. 

38 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 
There  was  no  shooting. 

Further  to  illustrate  the  ease  with 
which  the  lumber-jack  may  be  rob- 
bed, I  must  relate  that  last  mid- 
winter, in  the  office  of  a  Deer  River 
hotel,  the  Pilot  was  greeted  with 
hilarious  affection  by  a  boy  of  twenty 
or  thereabouts  who  had  a  moment 
before  staggered  out  from  the  bar- 
room. The  youngster  was  having  an 
immensely  good  time,  it  seemed;  he 
was  full  of  laughter  and  wit  and  song 
— not  yet  quite  full  of  liquor.  It  was 
snowing  outside,  I  recall,  and  a  bitter 
wind  was  blowing  from  the  north; 
but  it  was  warm  and  light  in  the 
office — bright,  and  cosy,  and  com- 
panionable: very  different,  indeed, 
from  the  low,  stifling,  crowded,  ill- 
lit   bunk-houses   of  the   camps,   nor 

*  39 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

was  his  elation  like  the  weariness  of 
those  places.  There  were  six  men 
lying  drunk  on  the  office  floor — 
in  grotesque  attitudes,  very  drunk, 
stretched  out  and  snoring  where  they 
had  fallen. 

"Boy,"  demanded  the  Pilot, 
"where's  your  money?" 

The  young  lumber-jack  said  that 
it  was  in  the  safe-keeping  of  the  bar- 
tender. 

"How  much  you  got  left  ?" 

"Oh,  I  got  lots  yet,"  was  the  happy 
reply. 

Presently  the  boy  went  away,  and 
presently  he  reeled  back  again,  and 
put  a  hand  on  the  Pilot's  shoulder. 

"Near  all  in?"  asked  the  Pilot. 

"I  came  here  yesterday  morning 
with  a  hundred  and  twenty- three 
dollars,"  said  the  boy,  very  drunkenly, 

40 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

*^and  I  give  it  to  the  bartender  to 
keep  for  me,  and  Fm  told  I  got  two- 
thirty  left." 

He  was  quite  content;  but  Higgins 
knew  that  the  money  of  which  they 
were  robbing  him  was  needed  at  his 
home,  a  day's  journey  to  the  east  of 
Deer  River. 

There  is  no  pleasure  thereabout 
(they  say)  but  the  spree,  and  the 
end  of  the  spree  is  the  snake-room  for 
by  far  the  most  of  the  merry-makers — 
a  penniless  condition  for  all — pneu- 
monia for  many — and  for  the  sur- 
vivors a  beggared,  reeling  return  to 
the  hard  work  of  the  woods. 

Higgins  is  used  to  picking  over  the 
bodies  of  drunken  men  in  the  snake- 
room  heaps — of  entering  sadly,  but 
never  reluctantly  (he  said),  in  search 

41 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

of  men  who  have  been  sorely  wounded 
in  brawls,  or  are  taken  with  pneu- 
monia, or  in  whom  there  remains 
hope  of  regeneration.  He  carries 
them  off  on  his  back  to  lodgings — or 
he  wheels  them  away  in  a  barrow — 
and  he  washes  them  and  puts  them 
to  bed  and  (sometimes  angrily)  re- 
strains them  until  their  normal  minds 
return.  It  has  never  occurred  to  him, 
probably,  that  this  is  an  amazing  ex- 
hibition of  primitive  Christian  feeling 
and  practice.  He  may  have  thought 
of  it,  however,  as  a  glorious  oppor- 
tunity for  service,  for  which  he  should 
devoutly  and  humbly  give  thanks  to 
Almighty  God. 


VIII 

TOUCHING    PITCH 

NOT  long  ago  Bemidji  was  what 
the  Pilot  calls  *^the  worst  town 
on  the  map."  It  was  indescribably 
lawless  and  vicious.  An  adequate 
description  would  be  unprintable. 
The  government  —  the  police  and 
magistrates  —  was  wholly  in  the 
hands  of  the  saloon-keeping  element. 
It  was  a  thoroughly  noisome  settle- 
ment. The  town  authorities  laughed 
at  the  Pilot;  the  state  authorities 
gently  listened  to  him  and  con- 
veniently   forgot    him,    for    political 

43 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

reasons.  But  he  was  determined  to 
cleanse  the  place  of  its  established 
and  flaunting  wickednesses.  He  or- 
ganized a  W.  C.  T.  U.;  and  then — 
"Boys,"  said  he  to  the  keepers  of 
places,  "Fm  going  to  clean  you  out. 
I  want  to  be  fair  to  you — and  so  I 
tell  you.  Don't  you  ever  come  sneak- 
ing up  to  me  and  say  I  didn't  give 
you  warning!"  They  laughed  at 
him  when  he  stripped  oflF  his  coat 
and  got  to  work.  In  the  bar-rooms 
the  toast  was,  ''T'  Higgins — and  t' 
hell  with  Higgins!"  and  down  went 
the  red  liquor.  But  when  the  fight 
was  over,  when  the  shutters  were  up 
for  good — so  had  he  compelled  the 
respect  of  these  men — they  came  to 
the  preacher,  saying:  "Higgins,  you 
gave  us  a  show;  you  fought  us  fair — 
and  we  want  to  shake  hands." 

44 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"That's  all  right,  boys,"  said 
Higgins. 

"Will  you  shake  hands?" 

"Sure,  ril  shake  hands,  boys!" 

Jack  Worth — that  notorious  gam- 
bler and  saloon-keeper  of  Bemidji — 
quietly  approached  Higgins. 

"Frank,"  said  he,  "you  win;  but 
Fve  no  hard  feelings." 

"That's  all  right.  Jack,"  said 
Higgins. 

The  Pilot  remembered  that  he  had 
sat  close  to  the  death-bed  of  the 
young  motherless  son  of  this  same 
Jack  Worth  in  the  room  above  the 
saloon.  They  had  been  good  friends 
— the  big  Pilot  and  the  boy.  And 
Jack  Worth  had  loved  the  boy  in 
a  way  that  only  Higgins  knew. 
"Papa,"  said  the  boy,  at  this  time, 
death  being  then  very  near,  "I  want 

45 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

you  to  promise  me  something."  Jack 
Worth  listened.  "I  want  you  to 
promise  me,  papa,"  the  boy  went  on, 
**that  you'll  never  drink  another  drop 
in  all  your  Hfe."  Jack  Worth  prom- 
ised, and  kept  his  promise;  and  Jack 
Worth  and  the  preacher  had  pre- 
served a  queer  friendship  since  that 
night. 

*' Jack,"  said  the  Pilot,  now,  "what 
you  going  to  do .?" 

"I  don't  know,  Frank." 

** Aren't  you  going  to  quit  this 
dirty  business." 

"I  ran  a  square  game  in  my  house, 
and  you  know  it,"  the  gambler  re- 
plied. 

**  That's  all  right.  Jack,"  Higgins 
said;  **but  look  here,  old  man,  isn't 
little  Johnnie  ever  going  to  pull  you 
out  of  this  ?" 

46 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"Maybe,  Frank,"  was  the  reply. 
"I  don't  know." 

The  gamblers,  the  bartenders,  the 
little  pickpockets  are  as  surely  the 
Pilot's  parishioners  as  anybody  else, 
and  they  like  and  respect  him.  No- 
body is  excluded  from  his  ministry. 
I  recall  that  Higgins  was  late  one 
night  writing  in  his  little  room. 
There  came  a  knock  on  the  door — 
a  loud,  angry  demand — a  forewarn- 
ing of  trouble,  to  one  who  knows 
about  knocks  (as  the  Pilot  says). 
Higgins  opened,  of  course,  and  dis- 
covered a  big  bartender,  new  to  the 
town — a  bigger  man  than  he,  and  a 
man  with  a  fighting  reputation.  The 
object  of  the  quarrelsome  visit  was 
perfectly  plain:  the  preacher  braced 
himself  for  combat. 

47 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 


You  Higgins  r" 
Higgins  is  my  name." 
*'Did  you  ever  say  that  if  it  came 
to  a  row  between  the  gamblers  of  this 
town  and  the  lumber-jacks  that  you'd 
fight  with  the  lumber-jacks  ?*' 
Higgins  looked  the  man  over. 
"Well,"  snarled  the  visitor,  "how 
about  it?" 

"Well,  my  friend,"  replied  the 
Pilot,  laying  off  his  coat,  "/  guess 
you  re  my  manr^  and  advanced  with 
guard  up. 

"Fm  no  gambler,"  the  visitor 
hastily  explained.  "Fm  a  bar- 
tender." 

Don't     matter,"     said     Higgins. 
You're  my  man  just  the  same.     I 
meant  bartenders,  too." 

"Well,"  said  the  bartender,  "I  just 
come  up  to  ask  you  a  question." 

48 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

HIggins  attended. 

"Are  men  made  by  conditions," 
the  bartender  propounded,  "or  do 
conditions  make  men  ?" 

There  ensued  the  hottest  kind  of  an 
argument.  It  turned  out  that  the 
man  was  a  SociaHst — a  propagandist 
who  had  come  to  Deer  River  to  sow 
the  seed  (he  said).  I  have  forgotten 
what  the  Pilot's  contention  was;  but, 
at  any  rate,  it  dodged  the  general 
issue  and  concerned  itself  with  the 
specific  question  of  whether  or  not 
conditions  at  Deer  River  made  saloon- 
keepers and  gamblers  and  worse  and 
bartenders — the  affirmative  of  which 
he  held  to  be  an  abominable  opinion. 
They  carried  the  argument  to  the 
bar-room,  where,  one  on  each  side 
of  the  dripping  bar,  they  disputed 
until  daylight,  Higgins  at  times  loudly 

49 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

taunting  his  opponent  with  the  asser- 
tion that  a  bartender  could  do  noth- 
ing but  shame  Socialism  in  the  com- 
munity. It  ended  in  this  amicable 
agreement:  that  the  bartender  was 
privileged  to  attempt  the  persuasion 
of  Higgins  to  SociaHsm,  and  that 
Higgins  was  permitted  to  practise 
upon  the  bartender  without  let  or  hin- 
drance with  a  view  to  his  conversion. 

"Have    a    drink?"    said    the    bar- 
tender. 

"Wh — what!"  exclaimed  the  Pilot. 
Have  a  little  something  soft .?" 
I  wouldn't  take  a  glass  of  water 
over  your  dirty  bar,"  Higgins  is  said 
to  have  roared,  "if  I  died  of  thirst!" 

The  man  will  not  compromise. 

To  all  these  men,  as  well  as  to  the 
lumber-jacks,  the  Pilot  gives  his  help 

50 


it 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

and  carries  his  message:  to  all  the 
loggers  and  lumber-jacks  and  road- 
monkeys  and  cookees  and  punk-hunt- 
ers and  wood-butchers  and  swamp- 
men  and  teamsters  and  bull-cooks  and 
the  what-nots  of  the  woods,  and  the 
gamblers  and  saloon-keepers  and  pan- 
derers  and  bartenders  (and  a  host  of 
filthy  little  runners  and  pullers-in  and 
small  thieves)  of  the  towns.  He  has 
no  abode  near  by,  no  church;  he 
preaches  in  bunk-houses,  and  sleeps 
above  saloons  and  in  the  little  back 
rooms  of  hotels  and  in  stables  and 
wherever  a  blanket  may  be  had  in  the 
woods.  He  ministers  to  nobody  else: 
just  to  men  like  these.  To  women, 
too:  not  to  many,  perhaps,  but  still 
to  those  whom  the  pale  men  of  the 
towns  find  necessary  to  their  gain. 
To  women  like  Nellie,  in  swiftly  fail- 
Si 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

ing  health,  who  could  not  escape  (she 
said)  because  she  had  lost  the  knack 
of  dressing  in  any  other  way.  She 
beckoned  him,  aboard  train,  well 
aware  of  his  profession;  and  when 
Higgins  had  listened  to  her  ordinary 
little  story,  her  threadbare,  pathetic 
little  plea  to  be  helped,  he  carried  her 
off  to  some  saving  Refuge  for  such  as 
she.  To  women  like  little  Liz,  too, 
whose  consumptive  hand  Higgins  held 
while  she  lay  dying  alone  in  her 
tousled  bed  in  the  shuttered  Fifth 
Red  House. 

Am  I  dyin'.  Pilot.?"  she  asked. 

Yes,   my  girl,"  he  answered. 

Dyin' — now?^^ 
Higgins   said    again   that   she  was 
dying;  and  little  Liz  was  dreadfully 
frightened  then  —  and   began  to  sob 
for  her  mother  with  all  her  heart. 

52 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

I  conceive  with  what  tenderness  the 
big,  kind,  clean  Higgins  comforted 
her — how  that  his  big  hand  was  soft 
and  warm  enough  to  serve  in  that  ex- 
tremity. It  is  not  known  to  me,  of 
course;  but  I  fancy  that  Httle  Liz  of  the 
Fifth  Red  House  died  more  easily — 
more  hopefully — because  of  the  prox- 
imity of  the  Pilot's  clear,  uplifted  soul. 


\ 


IX 

IN    SPITE    OF    LAUGHTER 

HIGGINS  was  born  on  August 
19,  1865,  ^^  Toronto,  Ontario, 
the  son  of  a  hotel-keeper.  When  he 
was  seven  years  old  his  father  died, 
and  two  years  later  his  mother  re- 
married and  went  pioneering  to  Shel- 
burne,  Dufferin  County,  Ontario, 
which  was  then  a  wilderness.  There 
was  no  school;  consequently  there 
was  no  schooling.  Higgins  went 
through  the  experience  of  conversion 
when  he  was  eighteen.  Presently, 
thereafter,    he    determined    to    be    a 

54 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

minister;  and  they  laughed  at  him. 
Everybody  laughed.  Obviously,  what 
he  must  have  was  education;  but  he 
had  no  money,  and  (as  they  fancied) 
less  capacity.  At  any  rate,  the  dogged 
Higgins  began  to  preach;  he  preached 
— and  right  vigorously,  too,  no  doubt 
— to  the  stumps  on  his  stepfather's 
farm;  and  he  kept  on  preaching 
until,  one  day,  laughing  faces  slowly 
rose  from  behind  the  stumps,  where- 
upon he  took  to  his  heels.  At  twenty 
he  started  to  school  with  little  children 
in  Toronto.  It  was  hard  (he  was 
still  a  laughing-stock);  and  there 
were  three  years  of  it — and  two  more 
in  the  high  school.  Then  off  went 
Higgins  as  a  lay  preacher  of  the 
Methodist  Episcopal  Church  to  An- 
nandale,  Minnesota.  Following  this 
came  two  years  at  Hamline  Unlver- 
5  55 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

sity.  In  1895  he  was  appointed  to 
the  charge  of  the  little  Presbyterian 
church  at  Barnum,  Minnesota,  a 
town  of  four  hundred,  where,  sub- 
sequently, he  married  Eva  L.  Lucas, 
of  Rockford,  Minnesota. 

It  was  here  (says  he)  that  the  call 
came. 


X 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  LORD 

IT  was  on  the  way  between  camps, 
of  a  Sunday  afternoon  in  mid- 
winter, when  the  Pilot  related  the 
experience  which  led  to  the  singular 
ministerial  activities  in  which  he  is 
engaged.  He  was  wrapped  in  a  thick 
Mackinaw  coat,  with  a  cloth  cap 
pulled  dow^n  over  his  ears;  and  he 
wore  big  overshoes,  which  buckled 
near  to  his  knees.  There  was  a 
heavy  pack  on  his  pack;  it  contained 
a  change  of  socks  (for  himself),  and 
many    pounds    of  '^readin'    matter" 

57 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

(for  "the  boys").  He  had  preached 
in  the  morning  at  one  camp,  in  the 
afternoon  at  another,  and  was  now 
bound  to  a  third,  where  (as  it  turned 
out)  a  hearty  welcome  was  waiting. 
The  day — now  drawn  far  toward 
evening — was  bitterly  cold.  There 
was  no  wind.  It  was  still  and  white 
and  frosty  on  the  logging-road. 

It  seems  that  once  from  Barnum 
the  Pilot  went  vacating  into  the  woods 
to  see  the  log-drive. 

"You're  a  preacher,"  said  the  boys. 
"Give  us  a  sermon." 

Higgins  preached  that  evening, 
and  the  boys  liked  it.  They  liked 
the  sermon;  they  fancied  their  own 
singing  of  Rock  of  Ages  and  Jesus, 
Lover  of  My  Soul.  They  asked  Hig- 
gins to  come  again.     Frequently  after 

58 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

that  —  and  ever  oftener  —  Higgins 
walked  into  the  woods  when  the  drive 
was  on,  or  into  the  camps  in  winter, 
to  preach  to  the  boys.  They  wel- 
comed him;  they  were  always  glad 
to  see  him — and  with  great  delight 
they  sang  Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul 
and  Throw  Out  the  Life-Line.  No- 
body else  preached  to  them  in  those 
days;  a  great  body  of  men — almost 
a  multitude  in  all  those  woods:  the 
Church  had  quite  forgotten  them. 

"Boys,"  said  Higgins,  ** you've  al- 
ways treated  me  right,  here.  Come 
in  to  see  me  when  you're  in  town. 
The  wife  '11  be  glad  to  have  you." 

They  took  him  at  his  word.  With- 
out warning,  one  day,  thirty  lumber- 
jacks crowded  into  the  little  parlor. 
They  were  hospitably  received. 

**  Pilot,"    said    the    spokesman,   all 

59 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

now  convinced  of  Higgins's  genuine- 
ness, "here's  something  for  you  from 
the  boys." 

A  piece  of  paper  (a  check  for  fifty- 
one  dollars)  was  thrust  into  the 
Pilot's  hand,  and  the  whole  crew 
decamped  on  a  run,  with  howls  of 
bashful  laughter,  like  a  pack  of  half- 
grown  school-boys.  And  so  the  rela- 
tionship was  first  estabUshed. 

It  was  in  winter,  Higgins  says,  that 
the  call  came;  and  the  voice  of  the 
Lord,  as  he  says,  was  clear  in  direc- 
tion. Two  lumber-jacks  came  out 
of  the  woods  to  fetch  him  to  the  bed- 
side of  a  sick  homesteader  who  had 
been  at  work  in  the  lumber-camps. 
The  homesteader  was  a  sick  man 
(said  they),  and  he  had  asked  for  the 
Pilot.     The   doctor  was   first  to  the 

60 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

man's  mean  home.  There  was  no 
help  for  him,  said  he,  in  a  log-cabin 
deep  in  the  woods;  if  he  could  be 
taken  to  the  hospital  in  Duluth  there 
might  be  a  chance.  It  was  doubtful, 
of  course;  but  to  remain  was  death. 

"All  right,"  said  Higgins.  "Til 
take  him  to  the  hospital." 

The  hospital  doctor  in  Duluth  said 
that  the  man  was  dying.  The  Pilot 
so  informed  the  homesteader  and  bade 
him  prepare.  But  the  man  smiled. 
He  had  already  prepared.  "I  heard 
you  preach — that  night — in  camp — 
on  the  river,"  said  he.  It  seems  that 
he  had  been  reared  in  a  Christian 
home,  but  had  not  for  twenty  years 
heard  the  voice  of  a  minister  in  ex- 
hortation until  Higgins  chanced  that 
way.  And  afterward  —  when  the 
lights  in  the  wannigan  were  out  and 

6i 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

the  crew  had  gone  to  sleep — he  could 
not  banish  the  vision  of  his  mother. 
Life  had  been  sweeter  to  him  since 
that  night.  The  Pilot's  message  (said 
he)  had  saved  him. 

"Mr.  Higgins,"  said  he,  "go  back 
to  the  camp  and  tell  the  boys  about 
Jesus." 

Higgins  wondered  if  the  Lord  had 
spoken. 

"Go  back  to  the  camps,"  the  dying 
man  repeated,  "and  tell  the  boys 
about  Jesus." 

Nobody  else  was  doing  it.  Why 
shouldn't  Higgins .?  The  boys  had 
no  minister.  Why  shouldn't  Higgins 
be  that  minister .?  Was  not  this  the 
very  work  the  Lord  had  brought  him 
to  this  far  place  to  do  ?  Had  not  the 
Lord  spoken  with  the  tongue  of  this 
dying  man  .?     "Go  back  to  the  camps 

62 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

and  tell  the  boys  about  Jesus."  The 
phrase  was  written  on  his  heart. 
"Go  back  to  the  camp  and  tell  the 
boys  about  Jesus."  How  it  appealed 
to  the  young  preacher — the  very  form 
of  it!  All  that  night,  the  homesteader 
having  died,  Higgins — not  then  the 
beloved  Pilot — ^walked  the  hospital 
corridor.  When  day  broke  he  had 
made  up  his  mind.  Whatever  dreams 
of  a  city  pulpit  he  had  cherished  were 
gone.  He  would  go  back  to  the 
camps  for  good  and  all. 
And  back  he  went. 

We  had  now  come  over  the  logging- 
road  near  to  the  third  camp.  The 
story  of  the  call  was  finished  at  sunset. 

"Well,"  said  the  Pilot,  heartily, 
with  half  a  smile,  "here  I  am,  you 


see." 


63 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"On  the  job,"  laughed  one  of  the 
company. 

"For  good  and  all,"  Higgins  agreed. 
"It's  funny  about  life,"  he  added, 
gravely.  "I'm  a  great  big  wilful  fel- 
low, naturally  evil,  I  suppose;  but  it 
seems  to  me  that  all  my  lifelong  the 
Lord  has  just  led  me  by  the  hand  as 
if  I  were  nothing  but  a  little  child. 
And  I  didn't  know  what  was  happen- 
ing to  me!  Now  isn't  that  funny? 
Isn't  the  whole  thing  funny  ?" 


XI 

FIST-PLAY 

IT  used  sometimes  to  be  difficult  for 
Higgins  to  get  a  hearing  in  the 
camps;  this  was  before  he  had  fought 
and  preached  his  way  completely  into 
the  trust  of  the  lumber-jacks.  There 
was  always  a  warm  welcome  for  him 
in  the  bunk-houses,  to  be  sure,  and 
for  the  most  part  a  large  eagerness 
for  the  distraction  of  his  discourses 
after  supper;  but  here  and  there  in 
the  beginning  he  encountered  an 
obstreperous  fellow  (and  does  to  this 
day)  who  interrupted  for  the  fun  of 

6;: 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

the  thing.  It  is  related  that  upon 
one  occasion  a  big  Frenchman  began 
to  grind  his  axe  of  a  Sunday  even- 
ing precisely  as  Higgins  began  to 
preach. 

**Some  of  the  boys  here,"  Higgins 
drawled,  "want  to  hear  me  preach, 
and  if  the  boys  would  just  grind  their 
axes  some  other  time  Fd  be  much 
obliged." 

The  grinding  continued. 

"I  say,"  Higgins  proceeded,  his 
voice  rising  a  little,  "that  a  good 
many  of  the  boys  have  asked  me  to 
preach  a  little  sermon  to  them;  but 
I  can't  preach  while  one  of  the  boys 
grinds  his  axe." 

No  impression  was  made. 

Now,    boys,"   Higgins   went    on, 
most  of  you  want  to  hear  me  preach, 
and   Fm  going  to   preach,   all   right; 

66 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 
but  I  cant  preach  if  anybody  grinds 


an  axe." 


The  Frencnman  whistled  a  tune. 

"Friend,  back  there!"  Higgins 
called  out,  "can't  you  oblige  the 
boys  by  grinding  that  axe  another 
time  ?" 

There  was  some  tittering  in  the 
bunk-house — and  the  grinding  went 
on — and  the  tune  came  saucily  up 
from  the  door  where  the  Frenchman 
stood.  Higgins  walked  slowly  back; 
having  come  near,  he  paused — then 
put  his  hand  on  the  Frenchman's 
shoulder  in  a  way  not  easily  misun- 
derstood. 

"Friend,"  he  began,  softly,  "if 
you-" 

The  Frenchman  struck  at  him. 

"Keep  back,  boys!"  an  old  Irish- 
man yelled,  catching  up  a  peavy-pole. 

67 


*» 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

"Give  the  Pilot  a  show!     Keep  out 
o'  this  or  I'll  brain  ye!" 

The  Sky  Pilot  caught  the  French- 
man about  the  waist — flung  him 
against  a  door — caught  him  again  on 
the  rebound — put  him  head  foremost 
in  a  barrel  of  water  —  and  absent- 
mindedly  held  him  there  until  the  old 
Irishman  asked,  softly,  *'Say,  Pilot, 
ye  ain't  goin'  t'  drown  him,  are  ye  ?" 
It  was  all  over  in  a  flash:  Higgins 
is  wisely  no  man  for  half-v/ay  meas- 
ures in  an  emergency;  in  a  moment 
the  Frenchman  lay  cast,  dripping  and 
gasping,  on  the  floor,  and  the  bunk- 
house  was  in  a  tumult  of  jeering. 
Then  Higgins  proceeded  v/ith  the 
sermon;  and  —  strangely  —  he  is  of 
an  earnestness  and  frankly  mild  and 
loving  disposition  so  impressive  that 
this  passionate  incident  had  doubtless 

68 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

no  destructive  effect  upon  the  solemn 
service  following.  It  is  easy  to  fancy 
him  passing  unruffled  to  the  upturned 
cask  which  served  him  for  a  pulpit, 
readjusting  the  blanket  which  was 
his  altar-cloth,  raising  his  dog-eared 
little  hymn-book  to  the  smoky  light 
of  the  lantern  overhead,  and  begin- 
ning, feelingly:  "Boys,  let's  sing 
Number  Fifty-six:  'Jesus,  lover  of 
my  soul,  let  me  to  thy  bosom  fly/ 
You  know  the  tune,  boys;  every- 
body sing — '  While  the  nearer  waters 
roll  and  the  tempest  still  is  high.' 
All  ready,  now!"  A  fight  in  a  church 
would  be  a  seriously  disturbing  com- 
motion; but  a  fight  in  a  bunk-house 
— well,  that  is  commonplace.  There 
is  more  interest  in  singing  Jesus, 
Lover  of  My  Soul,  than  in  dwelling 
upon  the  affair  afterward.     And  the 

69 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

boys  sang  heartily,  I  am  sure,  as  they 
always  do,  the  Frenchman  quite 
forgotten. 

Next  day  Higgins  was  roused  by 
the  selfsame  man;  and  he  jumped 
out  of  his  bunk  in  a  hurry  (says  he), 
like  a  man  called  to  fire  or  battle. 

"Well,''  he  thought,  as  he  sighed, 
"if  I  am  ever  to  preach  in  these  camps 
again,  I  suppose,  this  man  must  be 
satisfactorily  thrashed;  but" — more 
cheerfully — "he  needs  a  good  thrash- 
ing, anyhow." 

"Pilot,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "I'm 
sorry  about  last  night." 

Hieeins  shook  hands  with  him. 


XII 

MAKING   THE    GRADE 

FULLY  to  describe  Higglns's  al- 
tercations with  lumber-jacks  and 
tin-horn  oramblers  and  the  like  in 
pursuit  of  clean  opportunity  for  other 
men  would  be  to  pain  him.  It  is  a 
phase  of  ministry  he  would  conceal. 
Perhaps  he  fears  that  unknowing  folk 
might  mistake  him  for  a  quarrelsome 
fellow.  He  is  nothing  of  the  sort, 
however;  he  is  a  wise  and  efficient 
minister  of  the  gospel — but  fights  well, 
upon  good  occasion,  notwithstanding 
his  forty-odd  years.  In  the  Minnesota 
6  71 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

woods  fighting  is  as  necessary  as 
praying — just  as  tender  a  profession 
of  Christ.  Higgins  regrets  that  he 
knows  little  enough  of  boxing;  he 
shamefacedly  feels  that  his  prepara- 
tion for  the  ministry  has  in  this  respect 
been  inadequate.  Once,  when  they 
examined  him  before  the  Presbytery 
for  ordination,  a  new-made  seminary 
graduate  from  the  East,  rising,  quizzed 
thus:  "Will  the  candidate  not  tell  us 
who  was  Caesar  of  Rome  when  Paul 
preached  .?"  It  stumped  Higgins;  but 
— he  told  us  on  the  road  from  Six  to 
Four — "I  was  confused,  you  see. 
The  only  Caesar  I  could  think  of  was 
Julius,  and  I  knew  that  that  wasn't 
right.  If  he'd  only  said  Emperor  of 
Rome,  I  could  have  told  him,  of 
course!  Anyhow,  it  didn't  matter 
much."     Boxing,    according    to    the 

72 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

experience  of  Higgins,  was  an  im- 
perative preparation  for  preaching  in 
his  field;  a  little  haziness  concerning 
an  Emperor  of  Rome  really  didn't 
matter  so  very  miich.  At  any  rate, 
the  boys  wouldn't  care. 

Higgins's  ministry,  however,  knows 
a  gentler  service  than  that  which  a 
strong  arm  can  accomplish  in  a  bar- 
room. When  Alex  McKenzie  lay 
dying  in  the  hospital  at  Bemidji — a 
screen  around  his  cot  in  the  ward — 
the  Pilot  sat  with  him,  as  he  sits  with 
all  dying  lumber-jacks.  It  was  the 
Pilot  who  told  him  that  the  end  was 
near. 

"Nearing  the  landing,  Pilot?" 
Almost  there,  Alex." 
I've  a  heavy  load,  Pilot — a  heavy 
load!" 

McKenzie  was  a  four-horse  team- 

73 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

ster,  used  to  hauling  logs  from  the 
woods  to  the  landing  at  the  lake — 
forty  thousand  pounds  of  new-cut 
timber  to  be  humored  over  the  log- 
ging-roads. 

"Pilot,"  he  asked,  presently,  *'do 
you  think  I  can  make  the  grade  ?" 

"With  help,  Alex." 

McKenzie  said  nothing  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  looked  up.  "You 
mean,"  said  he,  "that  I  need  another 
team  of  leaders  .?" 

"The  Great  Leader,  Alex." 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  mean,"  said 
McKenzie:  "you  mean  that  I  need  the 
help  of  Jesus  Christ." 

No  need  to  tell  what  Higgins  said 
then — ^what  he  repeated  about  repent- 
ance and  faith  and  the  infinite  love 
of  God  and  the  power  of  Christ  for 
salvation.     Alex  McKenzie  had  heard 

74 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

it  all  before — long  before,  being  Scot- 
tish born,  and  a  Highlander — and  had 
not  utterly  forgotten,  prodigal  though 
he  was.  It  was  all  recalled  to  him, 
now,  by  a  man  whose  life  and  love  and 
uplifted  heart  were  well  known  to 
him — his  minister. 

*'Pray  for  me,"  said  he,  like  a 
child. 

McKenzie  died  that  night.  He  had 
said  never  a  word  in  the  long  interval; 
but  just  before  his  last  breath  was 
drawn — while  the  Pilot  still  held  his 
hand  and  the  Sister  of  Charity  num- 
bered her  beads  near  by — he  whisper- 
ed in  the  Pilot's  ear: 

"Tell  the  boys  I  made  the  grade!'' 


Pat,  the  old  road-monkey — now 
come  to  the  end  of  a  long  career  of 
furious    living — being    about   to    die, 

75 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

sent  for  Higgins.  He  was  desperate- 
ly anxious  concerning  the  soul  that 
was  about  to  depart  from  his  ill-kept 
and  degraded  body;  and  he  was  in 
pain,  and  turning  very  weak. 

Higgins  waited. 

"Pilot/'  Pat  whispered,  with  a 
knowing  little  wink,  "I  w^ant  you  to 
fix  it  for  me.'* 

''To  fix  it,  Pat?" 

"Sure,  you  know  what  I  mean, 
Pilot,"  Pat  replied.  "I  want  you  to 
fix  It  for  me." 

"Pat,"  said  Higgins,  "I  cant  fix 
It  for  you." 

"Then,"  said  the  dying  man,  in 
amazement,  "what  the  hell  did  you 
come  here  for  .^" 

"To  show  you,"  Higgins  answered, 
gently,  "how  you  can  fix  it." 

"M^  fix  It.?" 

76 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

Higgins  explained,  then,  the  scheme 
of  redemption,  according  to  his  creed 
— the  atonement  and  salvation  by 
faith.  The  man  listened — and  nod- 
ded comprehendingly — and  listened, 
still  with  amazement — all  the  time 
nodding  his  understanding.  "Uh- 
huhr^  he  muttered,  when  the  preacher 
had  done,  as  one  who  says,  I  see! 
He  said  no  other  word  before  he  died. 
Just,  ^^Uh-huhr' — to  express  enlight- 
enment. And  when,  later,  it  came 
time  for  him  to  die,  he  still  held 
tight  to  Higgins's  finger,  muttering, 
now  and  again,  '^\Jh-huhf  JJh-huhr' 
— like  a  man  to  whom  has  come  some 
great  astounding  revelation. 


XIII 

STRAIGHT   FROM   THE    SHOULDER 

IN  the  bunk -house,  after  supper, 
Higgins  preaches.  It  is  a  solerhn 
service:  no  minister  of  them  all 
so  punctilious  as  Higgins  in  respect 
to  reverent  conduct.  The  preacher 
is  in  earnest  and  single  of  purpose. 
The  congregation  is  compelled  to 
reverence.  *'Boys,"  says  he,  in  cun- 
ning appeal,  "this  bunk-house  is  our 
church — the  only  church  we've  got." 
No  need  to  say  more!  And  a  queer 
church:  a  low,  long  hut,  stifling  and 
ill-smelling     and     unclean     and     in- 

78 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

fested,  a  row  of  double-decker  bunks 
on  either  side,  a  great  glowing  stove 
in  the  middle,  socks  and  Mackinaws 
steaming  on  the  racks,  boots  put  out 
to  dry,  and  all  dim-lit  with  lanterns. 
Half-clad,  hairy  men,  and  boys  w4th 
young  beards,  lounge  everywhere — 
stretched  out  on  the  benches,  peering 
from  the  shadows  of  the  bunks, 
squatted  on  the  fire-wood,  cross- 
legged  on  the  floor  near  the  preacher. 
Higgins  rolls  out  a  cask  for  a  pulpit 
and  covers  it  with  a  blanket.  Then 
he  takes  off  his  coat  and  mops  his 
brow. 

Presently,  hymn-book  or  Testament 
in  hand,  he  is  sitting  on  the  pulpit. 

"Not  much  light  here,"  says  he, 
"so  I  w^on't  read  to-night;  but  I'll 
say  the  First  Psalm.  Are  you  all 
ready  r" 

79 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

Everybody  is  ready. 

"All  rijiht.  ^Blessed  is  the  man 
that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the 
ungodly/  boys,  ^  nor  standeth  in  the 
way  of  sinners' ^^ 

The  door  opens  and  a  man  awk- 
wardly enters. 

"Got  any  room  back  there  for 
Bill,  boys  V  the  preacher  calls. 

There  seems  to  be  room. 

"I  want  to  see  you  after  service, 
Bill.  You'll  find  a  seat  back  there 
with  the  bovs.  ^  For  the  Lord  knoweth 
the  way  of  the  righteous;  hut  the  way 
of  the  ungodly,  gentlemen,  'shall 
perisn. 

There  is  a  prayer,  restrained,  in  the 
way  of  the  preacher's  church — a  pe- 
tition terrible  with  earnestness.  One 
wonders  how  a  feeling  God  could 
turn   a   deaf  ear   to   the   beseeching 

80 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

eloquence  of  it!  And  the  boys  sing 
— lustily,  too — led  by  the  stentorian 
preacher.  An  amazing  incongruity: 
these  seared,  blasphemous  barbarians 
bawling,  What  a  Friend  I  Have  in 
Jesus! 

Enjoy  it  ? 

*' Pilot,"  said  one  of  them,  in  open 
meeting,  once,  with  no  irreverence 
whatsoever,  *' that's  a  damned  fine 
toon!  Why  the  hell  don't  they  have 
toons  like  that  in  the  shows  ?  Let's 
sing  her  again!" 

"Sure!"  said  the  preacher,  not  at 
all  shocked;    *' let's  sing  her  again!" 

There  is  a  sermon  —  composed 
on  the  forest  roads  from  camp  to 
camp:  for  on  those  long,  white, 
cold,  blustering  roads  Higgins  either 
whistles  his  blithe  way  (like  a  boy) 
or   fashions   his   preaching.     It   is   a 

8i 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

searching,  eloquent  sermon:  none 
other  so  exactly  suited  to  environ- 
ment and  congregation — none  other 
so  simple  and  appealing  and  com- 
prehensible. There  isn't  a  word  of 
cant  in  it;  there  isn't  a  suggestion  of 
the  familiar  evangelistic  rant.  Hig- 
gins  has  no  time  for  cant  (he  s^ys) — 
nor  any  faith  in  ranting.  The  ser- 
mon is  all  orthodox  and  significant 
and  reasonable;  it  has  tender  wisdom, 
and  it  is  sometimes  terrible  with 
naked  truth.  The  phrasing.?  It  is 
as  homely  and  brutal  as  the  language 
of  the  woods.  It  has  no  affectation 
of  slang.  The  preacher's  message 
is  addressed  with  wondrous  cunning 
to  men  in  their  own  tongue:  where- 
fore it  could  not  be  repeated  before 
a  polite  congregation.  Were  the 
preacher  to  ejaculate  an  oath  (which 

82 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

he  never  would  do) — were  he  to  ex- 
claim, "By  God!  boys,  this  is  the 
only  way  of  salvation!'' — the  solem- 
nity of  the  occasion  would  not  be  dis- 
turbed by  a  single  ripple. 

"And  what  did  the  young  man  do?" 
he  asked,  concerning  the  Prodigal; 
"why,  he  packed  his  turkey  and  went 
off  to  blow  his  stake — just  like  youT' 
Afterward,  when  the  poor  Prodigal 
was  penniless:  "What  about  him /A^w, 
boys  ?  You  know.  /  don't  need  to 
tell  you.  You  learned  all  about  it 
at  Deer  River.  It  was  the  husks  and 
the  hogs  for  him — just  like  it  is  for 
you!  It's  up  the  river  for  you — and 
it's  back  to  the  woods  for  you — when 
they've  cleaned  you  out  at  Deer 
River!"  Once  he  said,  in  a  great 
passion  of  pity:  "Boys,  you're  out 
here,  floundering  to  your  waists,  pick- 

83 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

ing  diamonds  from  the  snow  of  these 
forests,  to  gHtter,  not  in  pure  places, 
but  on  the  necks  of  the  saloon-keepers' 
wives  in  Deer  River!"  There  is  ap- 
plause when  the  Pilot  strikes  home. 
"That's  damned  true!"  they  shout. 
And  there  is  many  a  tear  shed  (as  I 
saw)  by  the  young  men  in  the  shad- 
ows when,  having  spoken  long  and 
graciously  of  home,  he  asks:  '*When 
did  you  write  to  your  mother  last  ? 
You,  back  there — and  you!  Ah, 
boys,  don't  forget  her!" 

There  was  pause  while  the  preacher 
leaned  earnestly  over  the  blanketed 
barrel. 

** Write  home  to-night,"  he  be- 
sought them.  ^'She^s — waiting — for 
— that — letter!'' 

They  listened. 


XIV 

THE  SHOE  ON  THE  OTHER  FOOT 

THE  Pilot  is  a  fearless  preacher — 
fearless  of  blame  and  violence 
— and  he  is  the  most  downright  and 
pugnacious  of  moral  critics.  He 
speaks  in  mighty  wrath  against  the 
sins  of  the  camps  and  the  evil-doers  of 
the  towns — naming  the  thieves  and 
gamblers  by  name  and  violently 
characterizing  their  ways:  until  it 
seems  he  must  in  the  end  be  done  to 
death  in  revenge.  "Boys,"  said  he, 
in  a  bunk-house  denunciation,  "that 
tin-horn  gambler  Jim  Leach  is  back 

85 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

in  Deer  River  from  the  West  with  a 
crooked  game — just  laying  for  you. 
I  watched  his  game,  boys,  and  I  know 
what  Fm  talking  about;  and  you  know 
I  know!"  Proceeding:  "You  know 
that  saloon-keeper  Tom"  Jenkins  ? 
Of  course  you  do!  Well,  boys,  the 
wife  of  Tom  Jenkins  nodded  toward 
the  camps  the  other  day,  and,  *  Pshaw !' 
says  she;  Svhat  do  I  care  about  ex- 
pense ?  My  husband  has  a  thousand 
men  working  for  him  in  the  woods!' 
She  meant  you,  boys!  A  thousand  of 
you — think  of  it! — working  for  the  wife 
of  a  brute  like  Tom  Jenkins."  Again: 
''  Boys,  I'm  just  out  from  Deer  River. 
I  met  ol'  Bill  Morgan  yesterday. 
'Hello,  Bill!'  says  I;  *  how's  business  r 
'Slow,  Pilot,'  says  he;  'but  I  ain't 
worryin'  none — it  '11  pick  up  when  the 
boys  come  in  with  their  stake  in  the 

86 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

spring/  There  you  have  it!  That's 
what  you'll  be  up  against,  boys,  God 
help  you!  when  you  go  in  with  your 
stake — a  gang  of  filthy  thieves  like 
Jim  Leach  and  Tom  Jenkins  and  Bill 
Morgan !"  It  takes  courage  to  attack, 
in  this  frank  way,  the  parasites  of  a 
lawless  community,  in  which  murder 
may  be  accomplished  in  secret,  and 
perjury  is  as  cheap  as  a  glass  of 
whiskey. 

It  takes  courage,  too,  to  denounce 
the  influential  parishioner. 

*'You  grown-up  men,  here,"  Hig- 
gins  complained  to  his  congregation, 
** ought  to  give  the  young  fellows  a 
chance  to  live  decent  lives.  Shame 
to  you  that  you  don't!  You've  lived 
in  filth  and  blasphemy  and  whiskey  so 
long  that  maybe  you  don't  know  any 

'  87 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

better;  but  I  want  to  tell  you — every 
one  of  you — that  these  boys  don't  want 
that  sort  of  thing.  They  remember 
their  mothers  and  their  sisters,  and 
they  want  what's  clean!  Now,  you 
leave  'em  alone.  Give  'em  a  show 
to  be  decent.  And  I'm  talking  to  you, 
Scotch  Andrew" — with  an  angry 
thump  of  the  pulpit  and  a  swift 
belligerent  advance — "and  to  you, 
Gin  Thompson,  sneaking  back  there 
in  your  bunk!" 

"Oh,  hell!"   said   Gin  Thompson. 

The  Pilot  was  instantly  confronting 
the  lazy-lying  man.  "Gin,"  said  he, 
"you'll  take  that  back!" 

Gin  laughed. 

"Understand  me?"  the  wrathful 
preacher  shouted. 

Gin  Thompson  understood.  Very 
wisely  —  however      unwillingly  —  he 

88 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 


apologized.  "That's  all  right,  Pilot," 
said  he;  "you  know  I  didn't  mean 
nothin  . 

"Anyhow,"  the  preacher  muttered, 
returning  to  his  pulpit  and  his 
sermon,    "  I'd    rather    preach    than 

fight." 

Not  by  any  means  all  Higgins's 
sermons  are  of  this  nature;  most  are 
conventional  enough,  perhaps  —  but 
always  vigorous  and  serviceable — and 
present  the  ancient  Christian  philos- 
ophy in  an  appealing  and  deeply 
reverent  way.  I  recall,  however,  an- 
other downright  and  courageous  dis- 
play of  dealing  with  the  facts  without 
gloves.  It  was  especially  fearless  be- 
cause the  Pilot  must  have  the  per- 
mission of  the  proprietors  before  he 
may  preach  in  the  camps.     It  is  re- 

89 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

lated  that  a  drunken  logger — the  pro- 
prietor of  the  camp — staggered  into 
Higgins's  service  and  sat  down  on  the 
barrel  which  served  for  the  pulpit. 
The  preacher  was  discoursing  on 
the  duties  of  the  employed  to  the 
employer.  It  tickled  the  drunken 
logger.  ^ 

"Hit  'em  again,  Pilot!"  he  applaud- 
ed.    "It'll  do 'em  good." 

Higgins  pointed  out  the  wrong 
worked  the  owners  by  the  lumber- 
jacks' common  custom  of  "jumping 
camp." 

"Give  'em  hell!"  shouted  the  log- 
ger.    "It  '11  do  'em  good." 

Higgins  proceeded  calmly  to  discuss 
the  several  evils  of  which  the  lumber- 
jacks may  be  accused  in  relation  to 
their  employers. 

"You're  all  right,  Pilot,"  the  logger 

90 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

agreed,  clapping  the  preacher  on  the 

back.     "Hit   the rascals    again! 

It  'II  do  'em  good." 

"And  now,  boys,"  Higgins  con- 
tinued, gently,  "we  come  to  the  other 
side  of  the  subject.  You  owe  a  lot 
to  your  employers,  and  I've  told  you 
frankly  what  your  minister  thinks 
about  it.  But  what  can  be  expected 
of  you,  anyhow  ?  Who  sets  you  a 
good  example  of  fair  dealing  and 
decent  living  ?  Your  employers .? 
Look  about  you  and  see !  What  kind 
of  an  example  do  your  employers  set  ? 
Is  it  any  wonder,"  he  went  on,  in  a 
breathless  silence, "  that  you  go  wrong  ? 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  you  fail  to  con- 
sider those  who  fail  to  consider  you  t 
Is  it  any  wonder  that  you  are  just 
exactly  what  you  are,  when  the 
men     to    whom    you    ought    to    be 

91 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

able  to  look  for  better  things  are 
themselves  filthy  and  drunken  loaf- 
ers ?" 

The  logger  was  thunderstruck. 

"And  how  d'ye  like  that.  Mister 
Woods  ?"  the  preacher  shouted,  turn- 
ing on  the  man,  and  shaking  his  fist 
in  his  face.  "How  d'ye  like  that? 
Does  it  do  you  any  good  .^" 

The  logger  wouldn't  tell. 

"Let  us  pray!"  said  the  indignant 
preacher. 

Next  morning  the  Pilot  w^as  sum- 
moned to  the  office.  "You  think  it 
was  rough  on  you,  do  you,  Mr. 
Woods  .?"  said  he.  "But  I  didn't  tell 
the  boys  a  thing  that  they  didn't  know 
already.  And  what's  more,"  he  con- 
tinued, "I  didn't  tell  them  a  thing  that 
your  own  son  doesn't  know.  You 
know  just  as  well  as  I  do  what  road 

92 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

he^s  travelling;  and  you  know  just  as 
well  as  I  do  what  you  are  doing  to  help 
that  boy  along." 

Higgins  continued  to  preach  in 
those  camps. 

One  inevitably  wonders  what  would 
happen  if  some  minister  of  the  cities 
denounced  from  his  pulpit  in  these 
frank  and  indignantly  righteous  terms 
the  flagrant  sinners  and  hypocrites  of 
his  congregation.  What  polite  catas- 
trophe would  befall  him  .? — suppose 
he  were  convinced  of  the  wisdom  and 
necessity  of  the  denunciation  and  had 
no  family  dependent  upon  him.  The 
outburst  leaves  Higgins  established 
in  the  hearts  of  his  hearers;  and  it 
leaves  him  utterly  exhausted.  He 
mingles  with  the  boys  afterward;  he 
encourages  and  scolds  them,  he  hears 

93 


ii 
(( 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

confession,  he  prays  in  some  quiet 
place  in  the  snow  with  those  whose 
hearts  he  has  touched,  he  confers 
with  men  who  have  been  seeking  to 
overcome  themselves,  he  writes  letters 
for  the  illiterate,  he  visits  the  sick, 
he  renews  old  acquaintanceship,  he 
makes  new  friends,  he  yarns  of  the 
cut''  and  the  ''big  timber"  and  the 
homesteading''  of  other  places,  and 
he  distributes  the  ''readin'  matter," 
consisting  of  old  magazines  and  tracts 
which  he  has  carried  into  camp. 

At  last  he  quits  the  bunk- house, 
worn  out  and  discouraged  and  down- 
cast. 

*'I  failed  to-night,"  he  said,  once, 
at  the  superintendent's  fire.  *'It  was 
awfully  kind  of  the  boys  to  listen  to 
me  so  patently.  Did  you  notice  how 
attentive  they  were  ^     I  tell  you,  the 

94. 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

boys  are  good  to  me!  Maybe  I  was 
a  little  rough  on  them  to-night.  But 
somehow  all  this  unnecessary  and 
terrible  wickedness  enrages  me.  And 
nobody  else  much  seems  to  care  about 
it.  And  I'm  their  minister.  And  I 
yearn  to  have  the  souls  of  these  boys 
awakened.  I've  just  got  to  stand  up 
and  tell  them  the  truth  about  them- 
selves and  give  them  the  same  old 
Message  that  I  heard  when  I  was  a 
boy.  I  don't  know,  but  it's  kind  of 
queer  about  ministers  of  the  gospel,'* 
he  went  on.  **  We've  got  two  Crea- 
tions now,  and  three  Genesises.  But 
take  a  minister.  It  wouldn't  matter 
to  me  if  a  brother  minister  fell  from 
grace.  I'd  pick  him  out  of  the  mud 
and  never  think  of  it  again.  It 
wouldn't  cost  me  much  to  forgive  him. 
I   know   that  we're   all   human   and 

95 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

liable  to  sin.  But  when  an  ordained 
minister  gets  up  in  his  pulpit  and 
dodges  his  duty — when  he  gets  up 
and    dodges    the    truth — why,    bah! 

Fve  got  no  time  for  himF' 


XV 

CAUSE   AND    EFFECT 

THIS  sort  of  preaching — this  gen- 
uine and  practical  ministry  con- 
sistently and  unremittingly  carried 
on  for  love  of  the  men,  and  without 
prospect  of  gain — wins  respect  and 
loyal  affection.  The  dogged  and 
courageous  method  will  be  sufficient- 
ly illustrated  in  the  tale  of  the  Big 
Scotchman  of  White  Pine — to  Hig- 
gins  almost  a  forgotten  incident  of 
fourteen  years'  service.  The  Big 
Scotchman  was  discovered  drunk  and 
shivering  with  apprehension — he  was 

97 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

in  the  first  stage  o£  delirium  tremens — 
in  a  low  saloon  of  White  Pine,  some 
remote  and  God-forsaken  settlement 
off  the  railroad,  into  which  the  Pilot 
had  chanced  on  his  rounds.  The 
man  was  a  homesteader,  living  alone 
in  a  log-cabin  on  his  grant  of  land, 
some  miles  from  the  village. 

"Well,"  thought  the  Pilot,  quite 
familiar  with  the  situation,  "first  of 
all  Fve  got  to  get  him  home." 

There  was  only  one  way  of  accom- 
plishing this,  and  the  Pilot  employed 
it;  he  carried  the  Big  Scotchman. 

"Well,"  thought  the  Pilot,  "what 
next  ?" 

The  next  thing  was  to  wrestle  with 
the  Big  Scotchman,  upon  whom  the 
"whiskey  sickness"  had  by  that  time 
fallen — to  wrestle  with  him  in  the 
lonely  little  cabin  in  the  woods,  and 

98 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

to  get  him  down,  and  to  hold  him 
down.  There  was  no  congregation 
to  listen  to  the  eloquent  sermon  which 
the  Pilot  was  engaged  in  preaching; 
there  w^as  no  choir,  there  was  no  re- 
port in  the  newspapers.  But  the 
sermon  went  on  just  the  same.  The 
Pilot  got  the  Big  Scotchman  down, 
and  kept  him  down,  and  at  last  got 
him  into  his  bunk.  For  two  days 
and  nights  he  sat  there  ministering — 
hearing,  all  the  time,  the  ravings  of  a 
horrible  delirium.  There  was  an  in- 
terval of  relief  then,  and  during  this 
the  Pilot  gathered  up  every  shred  of 
the  Big  Scotchman's  clothing  and 
safely  hid  it.  There  was  not  a  gar- 
ment left  in  the  cabin  to  cover  his 
nakedness. 

The  Big  Scotchman  presently  want- 
ed whiskey. 

99 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"No,"  said  the  Pilot;  "you  stay 
right  here." 

The  Big  Scotchman  got  up  to  dress. 

"Nothing  to  wear,"  said  the  Pilot. 

Then  the  fight  was  on  again.  It 
was  a  long  fight — merely  a  physical 
thing  in  the  beginning,  but  a  fight  of 
another  kind  before  the  day  was  done. 
And  the  Pilot  won.  When  the  Big 
Scotchman  got  up  from  his  knees  he 
took  the  Pilot's  hand  and  said  that,  by 
God's  help,  he  would  live  better  than 
he  had  lived.  Moreover,  he  was  as 
good  as  his  word.  Presently  White 
Pine  knew  him  no  more;  but  news  of 
his  continuance  in  virtue  not  long  ago 
came  down  to  the  Pilot  from  the 
north.  It  was  what  the  Pilot  calls  a 
real  reformation  and  conversion.  It 
seems  that  there  is  a  difference. 


100 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

We  had  gone  the  rounds  of  the 
saloons  in  Deer  River,  and  had  re- 
turned late  at  night  to  the  hotel.  The 
Pilot  was  very  busy — he  is  always 
busy,  from  early  morning  until  the 
last  sot  drops  unconscious  to  the  bar- 
room floor,  when,  often,  the  real  day's 
work  begins;  he  is  one  of  the  hardest 
workers  in  any  field  of  endeavor.  And 
he  was  now  heart-sick  because  of 
what  he  had  seen  that  night;  but  he 
was  not  idle — he  was  still  shaking 
hands  with  his  parishioners  in  the 
bar-room,  still  advising,  still  inspiring, 
still  scolding  and  beseeching,  still 
holding  private  conversations  in  the 
corners,  for  all  the  world  like  a  popular 
and  energetic  politician  on  primary 
day. 

A  curious  individual  approached 
me. 

lOI 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"Friend  of  the  Pilot's?"  said  he. 

I  nodded. 

"He's  a  good  man." 

I  observed  that  the  stranger  was 
timid  and  slow — a  singular  fellow, 
with  a  lean  face  and  nervous  hands 
-and  clear  but  most  unsteady  eyes. 
He  was  like  an  old  hulk  repainted. 

"He  done  me  a  lot  of  good,"  he 
added,  in  a  slow,  soft  drawl,  hardly 
above  a  whisper,  at  the  same  time 
slowly  smoothing  his  chin. 

It  was  a  pleasant  thing  to  hear. 

"They  used  to  call  me  Brandy 
Bill,"  he  continued.  He  pointed  to  a 
group  of  drunkards  lying  on  the  floor. 
"I  used  to  be  like  that,"  said  he,  look- 
ing up  like  a  child  who  perceives  that 
he  is  interesting.  After  a  pause,  he 
went  on:  "But  once  when  the  snakes 
broke  out  on  me  I  made  up  my  mind 

102 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

to  quit.  And  then  I  went  to  the  Pilot 
and  he  stayed  with  me  for  a  while, 
and  told  me  I  had  to  hang  on.  I 
thought  I  could  do  it  if  the  boys  would 
leave  me  alone.  So  the  Pilot  told  me 
what  to  do.  'Whenever  you  come 
into  town,'  says  he,  'you  go  on  to  your 
sister's  and  borrow  her  little  girl.' 
Her  little  girl  was  just  four  years  old 
then.  'And,'  says  the  Pilot,  'don't 
you  never  come  down  street  without 
her.'  Well,  I  done  what  the  Pilot 
said.  I  never  come  down  street 
without  that  little  girl  hanging  on  to 
my  hand;  and  when  she  was  with  me 
not  one  of  the  boys  ever  asked  me  to 
take  a  drink.  Yes,"  he  drawled, 
glancing  at  the  drunkards  again,  "I 
used  to  be  like  that.  Pretty  near 
time,"  he  added,  like  a  man  dis- 
playing an  experienced  knowledge, 
s  103 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

"to  put  them  fellows  in  the  snake- 
room." 

Such  a  ministry  as  the  Pilot's  springs 
from  a  heart  of  kindness — from  a 
pure  and  understanding  love  of  all 
mankind.  ''Boys/'  said  he,  once,  in 
the  superintendent's  office,  after  the 
sermon  in  the  bunk-house,  "I'll  never 
forget  a  porterhouse  steak  I  sav^  once. 
It  was  in  Duluth.  I'd  been  too  busy 
to  have  my  breakfast,  and  I  was 
hungry.  I'm  a  big  man,  you  know, 
and  when  I  get  hungry  I'm  hungry. 
Anyhow,  I  wasn't  thinking  about  that 
when  I  saw  the  steak.  It  didn't 
occur  to  me  that  I  was  hungry  until  I 
happened  to  glance  into  a  restaurant 
window  as  I  walked  along.  And 
there  I  saw  the  steak.  You  know  how 
they  fix  those  windows  up :  a  chunk  of 

104 


ii 
t(  < 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

ice  and  some  lettuce  and  a  steak  or 
two  and  some  chops.  Well,  boys, 
all  at  once  I  got  so  hungry  that  I 
ached.  I  could  hardly  wait  to  get  in 
there. 

But  I  stopped. 

Look  here,  Higgins,'  thought  I, 
'what  if  you  didn't  have  a  cent  in  your 
pocket  r 

"Well,  that  was  a  puzzler. 

'"What  if  you  were  a  dead-broke 
lumber-jack,   and  hungry  Uke  this?'' 

*'  Boys,  it  frightened  me.  I  under- 
stood just  what  those  poor  fellows 
suffer.  And  I  couldn't  go  in  the 
restaurant  until  I  had  got  square  with 
them. 

'**Look  here,  Higgins,'  I  thought, 
*the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  go 
and  find  a  hungry  lumber-jack  some- 
where and  feed  him.' 

105 


HIGGINS— A  MANS  CHRISTIAN 

"And  I  did,  too;  and  I  tell  you, 
boys,  I  enjoyed  my  dinner." 

It  is  a  ministry  that  wins  good 
friends,  and  often  in  unexpected 
places:  friends  like  the  lumber-jack 
(once  an  enemy)  who  would  clear  a 
way  for  the  Pilot  in  town,  shouting, 
^Tm  road-monkeying  for  the  Pilot!" 
and  friends  like  the  Blacksmith. 

Higgins  came  one  night  to  a  new 
camp  where  an  irascible  boss  was 
in  complete  command. 

"You  won't  mind,  will  you,"  said 
he,  "if  I  hold  a  little  service  for  the 
boys  in  the  bunk-house  to-night  ?" 

The  boss  ordered  him  to  clear  out. 

"All  I  want  to  do,"  Higgins  pro- 
tested, mildly,  "is  just  to  hold  a 
little  service  for  the  boys." 

Again  the  boss  ordered  him  to 
clear  out;   but  Higgins  had  come  pre- 

io6 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

pared  with  the  authority  of  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  camp. 

"Fve  a  pass  in  my  pocket/'  he 
suggested. 

"Don't  matter,"  said  the  boss; 
"you  couldn't  preach  in  this  camp  if 
you  had  a  pass  from  God  Almighty!" 

To  thrash  or  not  to  thrash?  that 
was  the  Pilot's  problem;  and  he  de- 
termined not  to  thrash,  for  he  knew 
very  well  that  if  he  thrashed  the  boss 
the  lumber-jacks  would  lose  respect 
for  the  boss  and  jump  the  camp. 
The  Blacksmith,  however,  had  heard 
— and  had  heard  much  more  than  is 
here  written.  Next  morning  he  in- 
volved himself  in  a  quarrel  with  the 
boss;  and  having  thrashed  him  sound- 
ly, and  having  thrown  him  into  a 
snowbank,  he  departed,  but  returned, 
and,  addressing  himself  to  that  por- 

107 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

tion  of  the  foreman  which  protruded 
from  the  snow,  kicked  it  heartily, 
saying:  ** There's  one  for  the  Pilot. 
And  there's  another — and  another. 
I'll  learn  you  to  talk  to  the  Pilot  like 
a  drunken  lumber-jack.  There's  an- 
other for  him.  Take  that — and  that 
—for  the  Pilot." 

Subsequently  Higgins  preached  in 
those  camps. 


XVI 

THE   WAGES    OF    SACRIFICE 

ONE  asks,  Why  does  Higgins  do 
these  things  ?  The  answer  is 
simple:  Because  he  loves  his  neigh- 
bor as  himself — because  he  actually 
does,  without  self-seeking  or  any 
pious  pretence.  One  asks,  What 
does  he  get  out  of  it  ?  I  do  not  know 
what  Higgins  gets.  If  you  were  to 
ask  him,  he  would  say,  innocently, 
that  once,  when  he  preached  at  Camp 
Seven  of  the  Green  River  Works,  the 
boys  fell  in  love  with  the  singing. 
Jesus,   Lover   of  My    Soul,    was   the 

109 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

hymn  that  engaged  them.  They  sang 
it  again  and  again;  and  when  they 
got  up  in  the  morning,  they  said: 
"Say,  Pilot,  let's  sing  her  once  more!" 
They  sang  it  once  more — in  the  bunk- 
house  at  dawn — and  the  boss  opened 
the  door  and  was  much  too  amazed 
to  interrupt.  They  sang  it  again. 
'*A11  out!"  cried  the  boss;  and  the 
boys  went  slowly  off  to  labor  in  the 
woods,  singing,  Let  me  to  Thy  bosom 
fly!  and,  Oh,  receive  my  soul  at  last! 
— diverging  here  and  there,  axes  and 
saws  over  shoulder,  some  to  the  deeper 
forest,  some  making  out  upon  the 
frozen  lake,  some  pursuing  the  white 
roads — all  passing  into  the  snow  and 
green  and  great  trees  and  silence  of 
the  undefiled  forest  which  the  Pilot 
loves — all  singing  as  they  went.  Other 
refuge  have  I  none;  hangs  my  help- 
no 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

less  soul  on  Thee — until  the  voices 
were  like  sweet  and  soft-coming 
echoes  from  the  wilderness. 

Poor  Higgins  put  his  face  to  the 
bunk-house  door  and  wept. 

*'I  tell  you,  boys,"  he  told  us,  on 
the  road  from  Six  to  Four,  **it  was 
pay  for  what  Fve  tried  to  do  for  the 
boys." 

Later — when  the  Sky  Pilot  sat 
with  his  stockinged  feet  extended  to 
a  red  fire  in  the  superintendent's  log- 
cabin  of  that  bitterly  cold  night — he 
betrayed  himself  to  the  uttermost. 
''Do  you  know,  boys,"  said  he,  ad- 
dressing us,  the  talk  having  been  of 
the  wide  world  and  travel  therein, 
"I  believe  you  fellows  would  spend 
a  dollar  for  a  dinner  and  never  think 
twice  about  it!" 
We  laughed. 

Ill 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

**If  I  spent  more  than  twenty-five 
cents,"  said  he,  accusingly,  "Fd  have 
indigestion." 

Again  we  laughed. 

"And  if  I  spent  fifty  cents  for  a 
hotel  bed,"  said  he,  with  a  grin,  "I'd 
have  the  nightmare." 

That  is  exactly  what  Higgins  gets 
out  of  it. 

Higgins  gets  more  than  that  out  of 
it:  he  gets  a  clean  eye  and  sound 
sleep  and  a  living  interest  in  life.  He 
gets  even  more:  he  gets  the  trust  and 
affection  of  almost — almost — every 
lumber-jack  in  the  Minnesota  woods. 
He  wanders  over  two  hundred  square 
miles  of  forest,  and  hardly  a  man  of 
the  woods  but  would  fight  for  his 
Christian  reputation  at  a  word.  For 
example,     he     had     pulled     Whitey 

112 


HIGGINS— A  MAN  S  CHRISTIAN 

Mooney  out  of  the  filth  and  nervous 
strain  of  the  snake-room,  and  re- 
established him,  had  paid  his  board, 
had  got  him  a  job  in  a  near-by  town, 
had  paid  his  fare,  had  taken  him  to 
his  place;  but  Whitey  Mooney  had 
presently  thrown  up  his  job  (being  a 
lazy  fellow),  and  had  fallen  into  the 
depths  again,  had  asked  Higgins  for 
a  quarter  of  a  dollar  for  a  drink  or 
two,  and  had  been  denied.  Im- 
mediately he  took  to  the  woods;  and 
in  the  camp  he  came  to  he  com- 
plained that  Higgins  had  "turned  him 
down." 

"You're  a  liar,"  they  told  him. 
"The  Pilot  never  turned  a  lumber- 
jack down.     Wait  till  he  comes." 

Higgins  came. 

"Pilot,"  said  a  solemn  jack,  rising, 
when  the  sermon  was  over,  as  he  had 

113 


HiGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

been     delegated,     *Mo     you     know 
Mooney  ?" 

'^Whitey  Mooney?" 
"Yes.       Do     you     know     Whitey 
Mooney  ?" 

You  bet  I  do,  boys!" 
Did  —  you  —  turn  —  him  — 
down  f" 

You  bet  I  did,  boys!" 

whyr 

Higgins  informed  them. 

"Come  out  o'  there,  Whitey!"  they 
yelled;  and  they  took  Whitey  Mooney 
from  his  bunk,  and  tossed  him  in  a 
blanket,  and  drove  him  out  of  camp. 

Higgins  is  doing  a  hard  thing — cor- 
recting and  persuading  such  men  as 
these;  and  he  could  do  infinitely  better 
if  he  had  more  money  to  serve  his 
ends.  They  are  not  all  drunkards  and 
savage  beasts,  of  course.      It  would 

114 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

wrong  them  to  say  so.  Many  are  self- 
respecting,  clean  -  lived,  intelligent, 
sober;  many  have  wives  and  children, 
to  whom  they  return  with  clean  hands 
and  mouths  when  the  winter  is  over. 
They  all — without  any  large  exception 
(and  this  includes  the  saloon-keepers 
and  gamblers  of  the  towns) — respect 
the  Pilot.  It  is  related  of  him  that 
he  was  once  taken  sick  in  the  woods. 
It  was  a  case  of  exposure — occurring 
in  cold  weather  after  months  of  bitter 
toil,  with  a  pack  on  his  back  and  in 
deep  trouble  of  spirit.  There  was  a 
storm  of  snow  blowing,  at  far  below 
zero,  and  Higgins  was  miles  from 
any  camp.  He  managed,  however, 
after  hours  of  plodding  through  the 
snow,  to  reach  the  uncut  timber, 
where  he  was  somewhat  sheltered 
from  the  wind.     He  remembers  that 

115 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

he  was  then  intent  upon  the  sermon 
for  the  evening;  but  beyond — even 
trudging  through  these  tempered 
places — he  has  forgotten  what  oc- 
curred. The  lumber-jacks  found  him 
at  last,  lying  in  the  snow  near  the 
cook-house;  and  they  carried  him  to 
the  bunk-house,  and  put  him  to  bed, 
and  consulted  concerning  him.  ''The 
Pilot's  an  almighty  sick  man,"  said 
one.  Another  prescribed:  "Got any 
whiskey  in  camp  ?"  There  was  no 
whiskey — there  was  no  doctor  within 
reach — there  was  no  medicine  of  any 
sort.  And  the  Pilot,  whom  they  had 
taken  from  the  snow,  was  a  very  sick 
man.  They  wondered  what  could 
be  done  for  him.  It  seemed  that  no- 
body knew.  There  was  nothing  to 
be  done — nothing  but  keep  him  cov- 
ered up  and  warm. 

ii6 


HIGGINS— A  MAN'S  CHRISTIAN 

**Boys,"  a  lumber-jack  proposed, 
"how's  this  for  an  idea?" 

They  listened. 

"We  can  pray  for  the  man,"  said 
he,  "who's  always  praying  for  us." 

They  managed  to  do  it  somehow; 
and  when  Higgins  heard  that  the  boys 
were  praying  for  him — praying  for 
him! — he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall, 
and  covered  up  his  head,  and  wept 
like  a  fevered  boy. 


THE    END 


A 


r  V 


.KJtKjf 


